


The Black Cat

by multiversemadness



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Bisexual John Watson, Crossover, Demisexual Sherlock, M/M, Potter!Lock, teen!lock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-13
Updated: 2017-01-15
Packaged: 2018-09-17 06:31:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9309626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/multiversemadness/pseuds/multiversemadness
Summary: John Watson is a muggleborn student in Hogwarts who finds himself pining for his best friend. But Sherlock is keeping a secret that draws the Ministry's attention.





	1. Advanced Classes

**Author's Note:**

> My favorite pairing and my favorite universe. Hope you guys enjoy reading this story as much as I enjoy writing it. :)

It was his sixth year, but John Watson still felt that same child-like excitement, as if this was his first time onboard of the Hogwarts Express. He couldn’t wait to see the castle again, to be able to use magic and reunite with his friends. Especially Sherlock.

They hadn’t talked much during summer, except for a few letters. Sherlock’s letters were annoyingly short and undetailed, but John was used to it by now. He knew the Holmes were a very traditional and important family in the Wizarding World, with the eldest brother occupying a mysterious position in the Ministry of Magic - which was extremely convenient for Sherlock, who somehow managed to get in trouble with the law all the time.

John, on the other hand, came from a muggle family. A poor one, for that matter. He’d had a busy summer too, though not the kind of busy that Sherlock Holmes would find interesting, not at all. He had been working two retail jobs to help out his parents, and that didn’t leave him much free time to get in touch with anyone from Hogwarts.

But now he was back to school. As a muggle kid, that was something he never looked forward to, but since that owl delivered his letter, he had discovered an immense joy in learning. Even History of Magic had its appeal, despite being taught by a monotonous ghost.

He looked for Sherlock in every car, but the Ravenclaw was nowhere to be found. He passed by a group of loud first-year students who seemed eager to show off their newly acquired wands. “Mine has a dragon string core! Who knew dragons were even real?!”, said a boy who could only be a muggleborn, making all the other kids laugh. John smiled, as he remembered being just as surprised when he first found out about dragons.  _Wait until you learn about the werewolves and vampires, mate._

“Oi, John! John Watson!”, someone shouted from the end of the car. He turned around to see Mike Stamford, a fellow Gryffindor, waving his arms. “Come join us!”

John gave up on looking for his best friend – the bastard simply had the talent of disappearing without leaving any clues – and walked to the cabin occupied by Mike and Greg Lestrade.

“Sorry I didn’t notice you there” he said. “I was-“

“Looking for Holmes.” said Greg with a smirk. “Yeah, we figured.”

John put aside his luggage and made himself comfortable. “So how was your summer?”

“Awful! My girlfriend broke up with me, can you believe that?”

“Oh yes, we believe.” Mike said. “That’s what happens when girls find out you’re shagging someone else.”

“Who is he shagging now?”

“Molly Hooper”, said a deep voice. John looked up to meet Sherlock’s astonishing eyes, unable to hide his joy in finally being reunited with him. He wore his blue scarf as usual, and that stupid overcoat. John felt a wave of affection as he slid to the side to make room for Sherlock.

“How the hell would you know that?” Greg asked, clearly upset.

Sherlock shrugged. “Maybe your late night visits to the Hufflepuff dormitories gave you away”.

“But there are hundreds of girls in Hufflepuff!”

“Alright”, he admitted, “maybe she just told me.”

John laughed. “Never underestimate the strength of the bond between a girl and her gay best friend, my dear Greg”.

“Bloody hell” Greg sighed. “So everyone already knows?”

“No, she told me in confidence. Although I can’t promise I’m the only one who’s been trusted with this little secret. You know how girls are. I am also not gay, John. What is it with muggles and their labels for human sexuality?”

“What is it with wizards and their obsession for houses and bloodlines?”

Sherlock smiled. “I can’t argue with that, my friend”.

The rest of the travel was filled by stories of their summer adventures. Well, mostly Sherlock’s adventures, since he loved showing off his intellect by detailing all the puzzles he solved. John thought he would make an excellent detective in the muggle world, but failed to think of an equivalent job in the magic community. An auror, perhaps.

There was a ridiculous story about a girl almost murdered by her stepfather, who had trained a venomous snake to sneak into her room at night; something involving the British royalty and an even more absurd thing about redheads. Greg thought he was making it all up, and Mike insisted on his theory that Sherlock was a Seer, which seemed to truly annoy the ravenclaw. John was delighted by all of it, and made a mental note to one day write an article for the Daily Prophet telling some of the wizard’s incredible achievements.

*****

Unless it was your first year, Sorting Ceremonies were usually very dull. Sometimes you’d hear a well known family name and everyone in the Great Hall would hold their breaths in anticipation. Those were mostly kids whose parents had been involved in the Second Wizard War, names that appeared in history books, chocolate frog cards and such. But this year was just dull. John had only two things in mind – the feast, and Sherlock.

Sherlock sat at the Ravenclaw table talking to Irene Adler. He seemed truly interested in whatever she was saying, and apparently she had a lot to say. John felt a strange twinge in his chest. What was it about Irene that caught Sherlock’s attention? Sure, she was beautiful, but Sherlock couldn’t be as shallow as to fall for someone just because of their looks… right? Honestly, he didn’t know. There were no precedents for Sherlock’s romantic interests.

Greg poked him. “Quit staring. It’s so embarrassing.”

“I wasn’t staring!”

“Sure, mate. Now for fuck’s sake, where’s the food?”

The timing was perfect. After the last girl was sorted – Slytherin! – Headmistress McGonagall announced the feast and, with a single clap of her hands, the food appeared on all five tables. Pork, chicken, fish and chips, every type of pie one could imagine. That was one of John’s favorite things about the castle. However, he couldn’t help but feel somewhat guilty, knowing that his family would probably never see anything like this. A few moments later, though, he was already immersed in a conversation with the boys around him, and the joy of returning to Hogwarts eclipsed everything else.

*****

“What do you mean you’re taking  _all_  the classes?”

“Not all the classes, John.” Sherlock answered with a hint of boredom. “Astronomy, for instance, isn’t important at all.”

“Oh, but  _herbology_  is?”

“Of course it is!” Now he sounded impatient. “Plants have all kinds of magical properties, you can’t just ignore them. It might prove very useful in the future. Now, who cares if the Earth moves around the Sun or if it's the other way around?”

That was one of the most ridiculous things John had ever heard, but he kind of saw where his friend was coming from. Sherlock only cared about pragmatic stuff, after all. That was a trait of his that most people hated, but John had learned to appreciate it somehow. Sometimes he wondered why nobody else could see through Sherlock’s arrogant persona, when his friend was really one of the best and most brilliant people he’d ever known.

“Ok, I’ll let you have this one. But how will you find time for all of that? We’re in advanced classes now…”

Sherlock grinned. “I’ll figure it out. Now finish your breakfast or we’ll be late for Defense Against the Dark Arts”.

That happened to be one of the few subjects in which John exceeded, so he was, in fact, looking forward to his N.E.W.T. level classes.

“I heard we’re studying dementors this year”, he said as he followed Sherlock’s lead through the moving staircases.

“I suppose we are” Sherlock sighed. He had mastered the Patronus Charm in his fourth year.

*****

John was trapped in a corner. Exhausted as he was, there was only one thing left for him to do.

“Tower to G2”, he said.

Mary commanded her queen to move. “Check”, she announced with a smirk.

“God, let’s call it a draw, alright? I just wanna go to bed, honestly”.

There were only a few students in the Gryffindor common room now. Mary Morstan had suggested that they played Wizard’s Chess and John had agreed despite being terrible at it. He was awfully tired from all the coursework that had been thrown at them in the very first week of the term. He was also unable to properly concentrate because his mind kept wandering to the Ravenclaw tower, thinking about how Sherlock might be dealing with his tons of assignments.

“You’re a bad loser, John Watson”, Mary said as she collected the chess pieces, which protested against being put away in a box again. “But you’re right, it’s late and we have Transfiguration tomorrow”.

“Ugh, don’t remind me”.

“Good night, darling”. She kissed him on the cheek and headed for the girl’s dormitory, leaving him alone with some kids who were making books fly around the room, a snoring Greg lying on the sofa and a black cat sitting by the fireplace.

*

Gryffindor and Slytherin were together in Transfiguration class. While the stereotypes that surrounded Slytherin for centuries had weakened after the house’s contribution in the Battle of Hogwarts years ago, a certain rivalry between the students still lingered. However, that healthy competition actually increased their over-all grades, which was extremely gratifying for Professor McGonagall. How she managed to teach advanced classes and still do her job as Headmistress remained a mystery. She was, by far, the most respected and admired teacher in the whole school – but also the most demanding.

They were diving into the deep and dangerous waters of Human Transfiguration now. John was paired with Mary, as usual, and their assignment was to change each other’s hair colors. He was having trouble at getting it right. Casting spells in Charms class came naturally to him, but this was an exact science and any tiny mistake could leave Mary bald or end up setting her hair on fire.

“Mr. Watson, what the hell are you doing?” McGonagall sighed. “You’re supposed to  _change the color_ , not make it all frizzy” She fixed Mary’s hair with a rapid and precise movement of her wand. “You’ll have to work harder if you truly wish to join the Aurors”, she said harshly before turning around.

“Sorry, Mary”.                                                                    

“Fuck up my hair and I will kill you”.

It took him ten more minutes to be able to change the girl’s hair from blonde to brown. A very light brown. Ish. Well, it was different than before. Mary, on the other hand, got the hang of the spell quickly and made John’s hair a pale violet. “I sort of like it, to be honest”, he said, looking in the mirror. Purple was Sherlock’s favorite color, he recalled.

Professor McGonagall stood in front of the classroom and everyone went dead quiet. She analyzed each student’s work, nodding at a few of them, including Mary. Then she locked her gaze, looking genuinely surprised at first, and then smiling. It wasn’t common for Minerva McGonagall to smile at a student, or at all, so the gryffindors and slytherins all turned to see the boy sitting by himself in the last row.

“Did you do that by yourself…? Mr. Moriarty?”

John gasped upon hearing the name. Jim Moriarty, who Sherlock had praised several times for his undeniable talent in scientific subjects, such as Transfiguration and Potions. And that meant a  _lot_  coming from Sherlock Holmes, since he was one of the most gifted students in those same areas.

Moriarty was a skinny boy who could go completely unnoticed if he wanted to. Clearly, that wasn’t the case, though. Not only his hair was now shimmering silver, but so were his eyebrows and eyelashes. His eyes, that were naturally really dark, had turned into the brightest green John could conceive. The colors of Slytherin, of course.

He smirked. “Yes, Professor. Who else could have done it?”


	2. Amortentia

“He did that on first try?” Sherlock asked, not even trying to hide his amazement. “Oh, he is brilliant, indeed. One of the few actually intelligent people in this school, I’d say. Human transfiguration is hard enough for me, let alone for others. You know, I wouldn’t be surprised if he became an animagus eventually.”

John frowned. “How come you keep praising him so much? The two of you haven’t even met.”

“That’s true. I’ve only heard of him so far. Perhaps we should meet…”

“That’s not what I meant at all!” John said, a bit louder and way bitterer than he’d planned. The librarian came out of the woodwork to shush at them.

Sherlock blinked. “What was that?”

“Why, can’t you deduce it?”

“You’re angry at me.”

John snorted. “No shit, Sherlock.”

“You’re offended because I said Moriarty is more intelligent than you. Although I didn’t really say it, but yes, it was implied. I thought you were already familiar with my somewhat brutal honesty, John.”

John looked into Sherlock’s eyes. Sherlock’s mesmerizing eyes, with its different shades of blue and green, that stared back so intensely. He then forced himself to look away, afraid that he might drown in that resplendent ocean.

“´Please tell me what’s wrong, John.”

Nothing was  _wrong_ , but… Well, he’d realized it a couple months ago, when he started missing Sherlock more than anything. He caught himself thinking of Sherlock every night, craving his presence. He tried to suppress it at first, just pretend those feelings weren’t there and hope they would go away, but it just got worse. Coming back to Hogwarts only endorsed the way the felt for his best friend. Being blatantly jealous of Irene Adler, now this whole Jim Moriarty thing… And the time they spent together simply wasn’t enough, not in any way as much as he desired. Sherlock never seemed to be there when John wanted him. And oh, how he wanted him.

John had to yield. He was falling for Sherlock, and it was a huge descent.

“Sherlock...” he said calmly, trying to manage his mixed feelings of outrage and attraction. “You are so clever… And yet spectacularly ignorant about some things.”

He didn’t have to be a legilimens to tell Sherlock was seriously offended. “Ignorant? What is  _that_  supposed to mean?”

John was too upset to carry on this conversation. He grabbed his wand and walked away, leaving a baffled Sherlock Holmes alone with a pile of books and unfinished homework.

*****

The Gryffindor tower was empty; it was Sunday and everyone was enjoying the pleasant weather outside. John was thankful for that because he really didn’t feel like talking to anybody, except for Mary.

Mary was the only person whose advice he really trusted. Not only she was one of his few friends who actually had her feet on the ground, she also seemed to understand him in a way that no one else did. John honestly felt more connected to her than to his own sister. And, unlike Sherlock, she was always there.

They were sitting in armchairs by the window, where they had a view of the school grounds. John told Mary about his little argument with Sherlock at the library, while she played around with her wand, conjuring flower crowns. She placed one of them on John’s head.

“Are you even listening to me?”                  

“Of course I am, darling. I just think you look prettier with those.”

John giggled and relaxed a bit. “You’re right. I’m over thinking this, aren’t I? I mean, Sherlock is a proper genius; it’s only natural that he’s interested in talking to someone as talented as him. …Right?”

Mary sighed. “John. We both know that Jim Moriarty isn’t really the point here. You’re not upset because Sherlock undermined your intelligence or whatever; he’s been doing that since first year. You’re jealous because you’re falling in love with him.”

That was a fact John had already accepted, but he wasn’t inclined to admit it to anyone else. What was the point, anyway? Sherlock would never feel the same way. He was too busy with his own studies and puzzles and brilliancy; there was no room left for John.

But there was no way of denying it to Mary now. She reached out to hold his hand. “Look at me, John. You know it’s fine, don’t you?”

He smiled. “I know it’s fine.”

“Good. Because muggles can be very intolerant. I know my dad is.”

“Yeah, but it doesn’t seem to be a problem at all with wizards. It’s not even a problem for me. I felt attracted to other guys before… not quite like this, though”.

“You should tell him.”

“Now you’re just being ridiculous” he said, as he stood up to go to his room, still wearing the flower crown.

*****

Most hufflepuffs thought it was a terrible crime to start the week with Potions so early in the morning, but Molly was very enthusiastic about that subject. They were with Ravenclaw, and she was with Sherlock.

Professor Slughorn told them all about the power of Amortentia, but explained that Headmistress McGonagall had forbidden him to teach students how to make any love potions. That sparkled a heated discussion, with some ravenclaw boys suggesting that brewing such an advanced potion would be a truly exciting challenge, while girls of both houses strongly opposed it, claiming that it was basically a date rape drug.

“Love potions should be illegal!” someone said.

“That’s right! Everyone knows _Tom Riddle_ was conceived under the effect of a love potion, and I bet my life it was Amortentia”.

When Slughorn finally got the class to calm down, half an hour later, he ended the debate by stating that McGonagall’s orders were very clear and he wouldn’t defy her authority.

“However” he said, “I happen to have a sample of the potion here”. He summoned a small cauldron with steamy spirals rising from it. “Now, I’m not encouraging any of you to try and reproduce this. It is merely for, uh, academic purposes. Understood?”

Molly still thought it was wrong, but she was too curious to care. She approached the cauldron and the scent of Greg’s cologne seemed to fill the whole room. She took a deep breath and beamed, feeling all warm and cushy.

“You look like an idiot, Molly” Sherlock said, bringing her back from her trance. He looked into the cauldron with a completely neutral expression, analyzing the pearl liquid.

“So what did it smell like?” Molly asked when they left the classroom. She had to rush to keep up with Sherlock’s pace.

“It doesn’t matter. The most important is that I managed to deduce at least three ingredients.”

“That’s impossible. Really, what did it smell like?”

Sherlock stopped in the middle of the hallway and turned to stare at her with a grave look on his face.

“John”, he said. “It smelled like John.”


	3. Time for a Riddle

Sherlock was definitely avoiding John. Actually, it seemed like he was avoiding everyone; nobody had seen him all week. John was kind of used to Sherlock disappearing from time to time, but now he was afraid it might have something to do with their argument the other day. He expressed his concerns during Herbology class.

“Darling, I’m sorry, but this isn’t the right time to talk about your love life”, Mary said as she tried to free herself from the Venomous Tentacle that attempted to strangle her. John used a severing charm to cut the plant’s vines with surgical precision; it dropped on the ground, still alive. He used  _incendio_  to burn the thing.

“Fuck! Why do we have to deal with these wankers anyway?” Mary swore, stomping on the plant to put off the fire.

“It might prove useful in the future” John replied, and felt a heart twinge as Sherlock’s voice echoed in his mind. “It’s not about my love life though, I don’t have one. This is about a missing person!” he protested, despite being very aware that Sherlock  _was_  part of his love life now, even if it was a one-sided sort of thing.

Greg was holding down one of the plants while Molly dissected it. “Well, did you ask his friends?” he suggested.

“ _We_  are his friends, Greg” Molly remarked, without taking her eyes off her work.

John had pondered a lot and decided it was time to disclose his feelings for Sherlock to the people who were closest to him. Molly happened to be one of them, but she avoided voicing any opinion – except for agreeing with Greg when he said everybody already knew, of course. She hadn’t seen Sherlock since their last Potions class, and didn’t want to say anything about what he’d told her. Last thing she needed was Sherlock Holmes angry with her.

“I know” Greg continued, looking absolutely disgusted at the Tentacle’s moving entrails. “I mean his Ravenclaw friends. He must have colleagues, right? Doesn’t he share a room with like five other guys?” John didn’t like being reminded of that.

“Is everything okay here?” Professor Longbottom suddenly appeared behind them. “You guys are in a chatty mood today. What- Watson, where are your dragon skin gloves?”

John was too embarrassed to tell him he just couldn’t afford such an expensive item.

“Nevermind, I see you already killed your specimen.” He seemed sorry for the murderous plant. “Did you at least get to do the dissection?”

“No, sir, it- it sort of tried to kill Mary”.

“Oh. Well, it happens. They’re brilliant, aren’t they?” Neville said and went on to talk to Mike and Sarah, who weren’t doing very well either.

They left the greenhouses covered in dirt and scratches. Greg thought the magical properties of the Venomous Tentacles weren’t worth the danger. Mary strongly agreed.

“So, what about Sherlock’s… colleagues?” Molly brought back the subject. She was genuinely worried about him too.

“He almost never talks about his housemates, except to complain about how stupid they are.” John groaned. “If ravenclaws are stupid, what are  _we_?"

"What about Irene Adler?" Mary suggested.

John had already considered that. He didn’t want to talk to Irene Adler at all. She was, however, known for holding secrets from everyone in Hogwarts. Rumor had it that even some teachers were afraid of being blackmailed by her, although that was probably an exaggeration. And she was relatively close to Sherlock – more than John thought necessary, honestly.

“Right. I think I’ll visit the Ravenclaw Tower after dinner tonight. But Christ, first of all I need a shower.”

*****

John realized there was a great chance that he wouldn’t be able to get into the Ravenclaw common room by himself – there was probably a password. And if he managed, Irene wouldn’t just be sitting there; it was more likely that she’d be in the girl’s dormitory, which could be protected like the Gryffindor’s one. So he decided to ask Adrya Coleman for help.

He’d dated Adrya for a while, two years ago, and they had ended on very good terms. She agreed to meet him in front of the spiral staircase. He got lost in the castle’s corridors, but finally found her. She looked beautiful, with gorgeous curly hair and glowing dark skin. John felt a hint of arousal as he approached her.

“Uh, hello” he said shyly. His skills were terrible when it came to talking to pretty girls.

“What took you so long?” she said gleefully, pulling him into a hug. She smelled like strawberries, he noticed, and her body was warm. He made an effort to avoid any instigating thoughts.

“Ah, you know. All the moving staircases and secret passages… It’d be nice to have a complete map of the castle.”

She laughed. “You should be used to all of it already. Come on, I’ll take you there. Don’t worry, these stairs don’t move.”

“That’s a bit odd, isn’t it? Since it was Ravenclaw herself who came up with that idea?”

Adrya seemed surprised. “Someone’s been paying attention to History class!”

“Oh no, I read it in a chocolate frog card” he lied. He’d found out on his second year that being interested in History of Magic was considered sort of lame. But honestly, everything involving magic was interesting when you were a kid who’d just discovered the existence of an actual Wizarding World. Or maybe John was really a nerd.

They finally arrived at the top of the staircase, where there was a door with a knocker in the shape of an eagle and nothing else. He waited for Adrya to say the password, but it was the knocker that started talking instead.

_This thing all things devours:_

_Birds, beasts, trees, flowers;_

_Gnaws iron, bites steel;_

_Grinds hard stones to meal;_

_Slays king, ruins town,_

_And beats high mountain down._

“Oh, that’s a hard one”, Adrya said. “I like the hard ones.”

“What the hell was that?” All students were used to talking objects in Hogwarts, so that was no surprise to John, but he didn’t understand a word the doorknob said.

“You have to answer a riddle” the girl explained. “Just give me a second. Something that devours all things… bring mountains down…  What do you suppose can bite steel?”

“No idea. Listen, Adrya, we don’t have time for this, if a prefect finds me here-”

“That’s it!” she shouted. “ _Time_. The answer is time, of course! Thanks, John.”

The door opened, revealing a circular room with wide windows and a ceiling enchanted to look like a clear, starry sky. There was a beautiful statue of a woman who John recognized as Rowena Ravenclaw. It was late, so there were only a few students left lounging in the room, mostly couples who didn’t pay any attention to Adrya and John.

“Alright, I’ll get Irene for you” she said before disappearing through another door. John looked around and sat at the nearest table, still confused and trying to figure out the riddle.

Irene came a few minutes later, wearing nothing but a white silk robe. Even stripped down, she still looked striking and fierce, gazing at him with ravishing green eyes. Like cat’s eyes, John thought.

“I confess I was a little surprised when Adrya told me you wanted to see me, Watson.” she said. “I understand your boyfriend is missing again?”

“He’s not my- oh, whatever. Yes, and I think you might know where he is, what he’s up to. People say you know everything that happens around here.”

The girl grinned. “Everything? No, not at all. I do have a way of getting information from people. Useful information, you know.”

“Right, but-“

“I don’t know where he is” she said sharply.

“You’re lying.”

“No. Believe me, I’ve been asking myself that same question. Where in the world is Sherlock Holmes. He’s so fascinating, isn’t he? Everyone thinks he’s anti-social, but my guess is that he’s just very selective when it comes to friends.” She smiled at John. “And boyfriends, of course.”

John was getting impatient. Irene  _had_ to know something, anything.

“Don’t be mad at me. It’s not my fault Sherlock is really good at covering his tracks. But then again”, she said in a malicious tone, clearly taking pleasure in teasing John, “he is good at everything.”

“What do you mean?” he grunted, not even trying to hide his jealousy anymore.

Irene laughed. “You aren’t very observant, are you? I mean, if you were, you’d know there is absolutely no reason to be jealous of me. I admire Sherlock, yes, he’s as brilliant as one can be. But I don’t like men, John. And he doesn’t like women. I believe muggles have a term for that.”

He gaped at her. Sherlock, sure, anyone could tell he wasn’t interested in the opposite gender at all – not even in the same gender, as far as John knew. But Irene? He never would have guessed.

John realized how much tension he’d been holding in his body since the start of the conversation, and allowed himself to relax. That was a truly unexpected piece of information, one that made him absolutely relieved. But it wasn’t the reason he was there.

“That’s- that’s good to know. You still haven’t answered me yet…”

“I answered you, Watson. I don’t know where he is.”

“You must know  _something_! Didn’t you hear anything? His roommates, aren’t they worried?”

She seemed confused. “Watson… how much do you really know him? Sherlock doesn’t have friends in Ravenclaw. There’s-” she was reluctant. “There’s a rumour that his parents were Death Eaters. Everyone thinks he belongs in Slytherin, like the rest of his family.”

John was speechless again. He knew Sherlock came from a pureblood family and that every Holmes before him had been a slytherin, including his brother, but – Death Eaters?

“How come I never heard this rumour?!” he raised his voice, catching the other students’ attention. “I’m his  _best friend_ , how come nobody ever mentioned that?”

“John…”

“ _How_?” he shouted and banged his hand on the table, making Irene flinch.  

“Oi mate” a boy crossed the room and stood by the girl. “Why don’t you leave her alone, uh?” he threatened.

“It’s okay, Marcus, really.” Irene intervened, a sweet smile on her face. What an actress she was. “We’re just having a little discussion.”

“A pretty heated one, I see. Is he your friend? I know he’s in Gryffindor.”

“Yes, yes, he is. Don’t worry, sweetheart, we’re gonna go now.”

She grabbed John by the arm and led him outside, back to the staircase. The door closed behind them with a loud thud.

“You  _cock_! What if a prefect heard you?”

John’s anger was blinding him. “Listen” he struggled to keep his voice down. “I’m bloody worried about Sherlock. You tell me everything you know or-“

“Or what? You’re gonna yell at me again? You don’t frighten me, Watson. None of your fuckboy friends from Gryffindor frighten me. I  _am_  telling you everything I know. If you’d just use your sodding brain and  _listened_  to me instead of putting on a show…”

 

“Fine!” He took a deep breath and unclenched his fists. He was overreacting, obviously. Irene said it was a  _rumour_. That’s why he’d never heard anything about it – it wasn’t true. Sherlock would have told him.

Irene pulled herself together as well, standing up straight and tightening her robe. “Good. Shall we try and be rational?”

John didn’t answer.

“Right. I’ll be quick ‘cause Marcus won’t keep quiet and I certainly don’t want to be caught out of bed.” Getting an advertence was the last of John’s concerns now, but she had a point.

“This mess started last term, after we came back from Christmas holidays. It seems like your boyfriend is trying to protect you, going out of his way to keep you out of it. Anyway, I talked to Mycroft Holmes about it and he assured me it isn’t true, but once a rumour is out there you just can’t stop it. Sherlock was always unpopular. Everyone was just waiting for an excuse to defame him. That’s the thing with geniuses like him, John. They get cocky once they realize how brilliant they are, and people hate it.”

Sherlock was bumptious, for sure. John just didn’t understand why people wouldn’t even bother to get to know him better, to see who he really was.

“But where did this bullshit come from?”

Irene sighed. “You know Sally Donavan?”

“The headgirl?”

“Yes. They’re in the same class. She tries to be the best since first year, and she works hard for it, from what I know. But Sherlock does everything effortlessly; it just comes natural to him. She despises him.”

“So she decided to tell everyone his family is involved with Dark Magic?”

“Not really, she merely spread it; made a pretty good case, to be honest. But I have every reason to believe it was Jim Moriarty who came up with the whole thing.”

John didn’t have time to process what he’d just heard. The door opened and a tall boy that he recognized as a prefect came out.

“Adler”, he said dryly, “I won’t tell you twice. You’re lucky it’s me, not a teacher.” He turned to John. “And you better go back to your own tower, lad.”

“Sod off, Orion, we were just saying goodbye” Irene dismissed him and kissed John, catching him completely off guard. His reaction was a bit delayed, but he ended up kissing her back. It was extremely awkward and he thanked god when she let go of him. “Go now, love, you don’t want to get in trouble.”

John looked at Orion, who was uncomfortably staring at the ground, wished him a good night and ran down the stairs as swiftly as he could. At least he was sure the monitor wouldn’t tell any teachers.


	4. Not All Purebloods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Wouldn’t it be public if the Holmes had been actual Death Eaters? Had Sherlock and his brother been raised in a strongly racist environment? Did they carry their family’s twisted ideals?"

“Are you okay, mate?” Greg asked.

John looked up from his bacon and eggs and realized he had completely zoned out. “Yeah”, he cleared his throat, “yeah, I’m fine”.

“Liar” Mary accused. “You still haven’t told us how it went with Adler”.

“I told you. She doesn’t know where he is”.

“Really? That’s all you got from her?”

“Are you jealous?” John smirked. She smacked him in the head.

“Mary’s right, you know. There’s something you’re keeping from us. Don’t deny it!” he said before John could even open his mouth.

“Christ, alright, alright! I found out one thing or two. For instance, Adler’s a lesbian. It means she only dates women, Greg” he added when his friend seemed confused. “And apparently there’s a rumour about Sherlock’s parents-”

Out of nowhere, a black cat jumped on the table, spilling coffee everywhere. It hissed at John, took a few turns on the table with pompous steps and decided to sit on Greg’s plate. The trio was struck for a moment, then started laughing.

“See?” John said. “He doesn’t want me to tell you shit.”

“Doesn’t want me to eat my bacon either” Greg noted. “Who the fuck is his owner? I keep seeing this goddamn thing all around the castle”.

“You’re aware there’s lots of cats in Hogwarts, right?”

“I’m pretty sure it’s the same one though. I mean, his eyes…”

John caressed the soft fur behind the cat’s ears and looked at him properly. He was amazed by his eyes, one of them bright green, the other deep blue. They were acute and intelligent eyes, a bit scary, to be honest. He hissed at John again and ran off, disappearing under the table.

Greg and Mary looked at each other, amused, but John was left with an odd feeling. “I don’t think he has an owner…”

“Oi, don’t change the subject” Mary protested. “You were talking about your boyfriend’s parents”.

“He’s not- fine. His parents. Right. Yeah, apparently they used to be Death Eaters”.

Greg spat his coffee. “What the _fuck_?!”

“I know, it’s absurd. Irene…” he paused a moment to ask himself when did he get in first name basis with her. “She said Moriarty came up with that, but it’s nothing but gossip… What?” he inquired, noticing the serious look on Mary’s face.

The girl bit her lip and looked away from John.

“ _Mary_ ”.

“I’m sorry, John, but that sounds very… plausible. They’re purebloods after all.”

“Not every pureblood family messes with Dark Magic!” Greg argued.

“Yeah,” John backed him up, “even if they did, which I think is not true, but even so, Sherlock wouldn’t be involved with any of it, alright? I mean, he’s the first Holmes that’s not a slytherin, he’s obviously not like his family”.

His friends looked complacently at him. Mary smiled weakly.

“We know, darling. I’m not saying Sherlock is an evil KKK member. It’s just… why would Moriarty make this up?”

John was way more upset than he had the right to be.

“I don’t feel like going to Potions class right now” he announced and marched out of the Great Hall.

He didn’t really know where to go or what to do. His mind was spinning with the idea of Sherlock’s family fighting on the wrong side of the war.

He remembered everything he’d read about the Second Wizarding War – how Tom Riddle intended to overpower anyone who wasn’t a pureblood, and how many traditional families had supported him. Some kids in Hogwarts were unfortunate enough to carry the burden of those names; some had relatives in Azkaban. But was Sherlock one of them?

Wouldn’t it be public if the Holmes had been actual Death Eaters? Had Sherlock and his brother been raised in a strongly racist environment? Did they carry their family’s twisted ideals?

 _That would be like being friends with a neo-nazi_ , John thought.

No. He wasn’t just friends with Sherlock; he was _in love_ with him.

Fuck, he should never have talked to Irene Adler.

And there was Jim Moriarty. The brilliant slytherin with a ridiculous gift for human transfiguration. John understood why he would take interest in another gifted student such as Sherlock, but promoting gossip wasn’t exactly the best way to get close to him. Unless his motives were others than to simply _meet_ him…

When he realized, John was at the hospital wing. It seemed appropriate that he unconsciously headed that way, since that whole story made him feel sick.

The nurse was sitting on a squishy armchair, reading a book, and didn’t seem to notice John. He looked around – no patients. _Good, I can just ask for a sleep potion and stay here all afternoon, no questions asked._ His steps echoed in the empty wing as he walked to the witch, who turned around and beamed upon recognizing him.

“John, sweetheart!” she said, standing up and pulling him into a hug. “Haven’t seen you since your last Quidditch match. Oh dear, how is your leg?”

“Leg’s fine” he said, letting go of the old lady’s stifling embrace. “My shoulder, though… Well, I just can’t catch any snitches anymore”. John forced a smile. He didn’t want to be reminded of that.

“What a shame, what a shame” the woman cried. “You had real talent, you know. I am not supposed to cheer for a house, but oh well, I do have a weak spot for Gryffindor”. She gave him a motherly look, but then her eyes went wide open when she realized John wasn’t supposed to be there.

“Oh Merlin, you should be in class right now. What happened? Another accident?” She started inspecting his body despite John’s protests. “Did Longbottom bring poisonous plants to class again?”

“No, Christ, nothing like that. Calm- calm down, Mrs. Hudson! I just… I’m not feeling very well, so I thought I could have something to help me sleep it off”.

Mrs. Hudson laughed. “Ah, you could have said it earlier. Yes, I do have a few potions.” She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial tone. “Are you actually sick or just trying to skip classes, dear?”

John pondered. “I’d say both.”

She gladly gave him a dose of Dreamless Sleep potion. John wondered if she was so easily convinced by other students as well, of if she simply favoured John because he was Sherlock’s friend. The witch often remarked she would be forever thankful to Sherlock for helping a team of aurors send her husband to Azkaban.

When John woke up, much later, in the middle of the night, he heard two people having a heated argument. It took him a while to remember where he was and why, then he recognized both voices and immediately jumped out of bed.

“Please”, Mrs. Hudson was saying, “you can’t be here, it’s nearly curfew, you should be heading to your room right now.”

“I need to see my friend”, Sherlock demanded.

“I’m here”, John called. He closed the distance between them with long strides and punched Sherlock in the face so hard his knuckles would ache for the rest of the week. The ravenclaw stared at him in shock, with a bleeding nose and teary eyes. It must have really hurt, and John was pleased with it.

“What were you thinking, Mr. Watson?” the nurse scolded as she rushed to help Sherlock, but he dismissed her with a hand gesture.

“It’s fine, I kind of deserved it.”

“Damn right you deserved it, you bastard!” John wanted to hit him again, but Mrs. Hudson stood between them.

Sherlock reached for his wand in the inner pocket of the trench coat and vanished the blood that ran down his face. “Good to see you’re well. When I realized you were here, I was worried…”

“Worried! _You_ were worried?! You were fucking gone for two weeks! Two bloody weeks, Sherlock, not even a word from you.”

“I suppose I owe you an apology, then.”

“Oh no, no. You owe me a sodding explanation, and it better be a damn good one.”

“Boys”, Mrs. Hudson intervened before Sherlock could say anything, “I’m sure you can do this some other time”. Her tone had quickly changed from caring and friendly to dry and reprehensive. “You need to go back to your dormitories _now_.”

Apparently, Sherlock couldn’t help but defy authority. The cocky bastard straightened his posture and started talking with aggravating contain. “As far as I’m concerned, it was your own irresponsible action that led up to this. Should you really be giving potions to people who don’t actually need them?”

Mrs. Hudson had enough. “I may be just the school nurse, young man, but I don’t work for you and I will not tolerate this bollocks” she said, taking out her wand. “Out of here. Both of you. _Out._ ”

John grabbed Sherlock’s arm with a grip that was stronger than necessary and scouted him out of the hospital wing.

They walked in silence, only their footsteps echoing through the hallways. There was a lot of tension in the air between them, and John had a feeling that he might be emanating actual waves of anger. Sherlock remained composed as always, which pissed John off even more.

“We have a lot to discuss”, the curly-haired boy said.

“Yes”, John agreed through grinded teeth. “Tomorrow, though. I swear if I have to talk to you right now, I’ll fucking curse you.”

“Fair enough”, Sherlock said as they parted ways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok so next chapter will probably have a sex scene and maybe some answers stay tuned


End file.
